The next evening John Wilkes returned after an absence of but half an
hour.

"Why, John, you can but have smoked a single pipe! Did you not find
your cronies there?"

"I hurried back, Captain, because a man from one of the ships in the
Pool landed and said there was a great light in the sky, and that it
seemed to him it was either a big fire in the Temple, or in one of
the mansions beyond the walls; so methought I would come in and ask
Cyril if he would like to go with me to see what was happening."

"I should like it much, John. I saw a great fire in Holborn just
after I came over from France, and a brave sight it was, though very
terrible; and I would willingly see one again."

He took his hat and cloak and was about to be off, when Captain Dave
called after him,--

"Buckle on your sword, lad, and leave your purse behind you. A fire
ever attracts thieves and cut-throats, who flock round in hopes of
stealing something in the confusion. Besides, as I have told you
before, you should never go out after dark without your sword, even
were it but to cross the road."

Cyril ran upstairs to his room, buckled on his weapon, and ran down
again.

"The Captain is right," John Wilkes said, as he joined him at the
door. "After your two adventures, it would be folly for you to go out
unarmed."

"Oh, I expect they have forgotten about me long ago," Cyril laughed
lightly.

"I don't know," John Wilkes said seriously. "As to Marner's gang, I
think that there is not much fear from them, unless that young rascal
Robert and the scoundrel who was with him have returned from Holland;
and that they are not likely to do for some time to come. But it
would not be in human nature if the man you call John Harvey should
take his defeat without trying to pay you back for that wound you
gave him, for getting Mistress Nellie out of his hands, and for
making him the laughing-stock of his comrades. I tell you that there
is scarce an evening that I have gone out but some fellow passes me
before I have gone twenty yards, and, as he brushes my sleeve, turns
his head to look at me. But yesternight I said to one who so behaved,
'Look here, mate, this is not the first time you have run against me.
I warn you that if it happens again I will crack your head with my
cudgel.' The fellow went off, muttering and grumbling, but I have no
doubt that he and the others, for it certainly was not always the
same man, were watching for you. To-night there was no one about, or,
if there was, he did not come near me, and it may be that, finding
you never leave the house after nightfall, they have decided to give
it up for the present. But I thought I heard a footfall lower down
the street, just as we came out of the house, and it is like enough
that we are followed now."

"At any rate, they would scarce attack two of us, John, and I should
not mind if they did. It is a stab in the back that I am afraid of
more than an open quarrel."

"You may have a better swordsman to deal with next time. The fellow
himself would scarcely care to cross swords with you again, but he
would have no difficulty in getting half-a-dozen cut-throats from the
purlieus of the Temple or Westminster, professional bullies, who are
ready to use their swords to those who care to purchase them, and who
would cut a throat for a few crowns, without caring a jot whose
throat it was. Some of these fellows are disbanded soldiers. Some are
men who were ruined in the wars. Some are tavern bullies--broken men,
reckless and quarrelsome gamblers so long as they have a shilling in
their pockets, but equally ready to take to the road or to rob a
house when their pockets are empty."

By this time they had passed the Exchange into Cheapside. Many people
were hurrying in the same direction and wondering where the fire was.
Presently one of the Fire Companies, with buckets, ladders, and axes,
passed them at a run. Even in Cheapside the glow in the sky ahead
could be plainly seen, but it was not until they passed St. Paul's
and stood at the top of Ludgate Hill that the flames, shooting up
high in the air, were visible. They were almost straight ahead.

"It must be at the other end of Fleet Street," Cyril said, as they
broke into a run.

"Farther than that, lad. It must be one of the mansions along the
Strand. A fire always looks closer than it is. I have seen a ship in
flames that looked scarce a mile away, and yet, sailing with a brisk
wind, it took us over an hour to come up to it."

The crowd became thicker as they approached Temple Bar. The upper
windows of the houses were all open, and women were leaning out
looking at the sight. From every lane and alley men poured into the
street and swelled the hurrying current. They passed through the Bar,
expecting to find that the fire was close at hand. They had, however,
some distance farther to go, for the fire was at a mansion in the
Savoy. Another Fire Company came along when they were within a
hundred yards of the spot.

"Join in with them," Cyril said; and he and John Wilkes managed to
push their way into the ranks, joining in the shout, "Way there, way!
Make room for the buckets!"

Aided by some of the City watch the Company made its way through the
crowd, and hurried down the hill from the Strand into the Savoy. A
party of the King's Guard, who had just marched up, kept back the
crowd, and, when once in the open space, Cyril and his companion
stepped out from the ranks and joined a group of people who had
arrived before the constables and soldiers had come up.

The mansion from which the fire had originated was in flames from top
to bottom. The roof had fallen in. Volumes of flame and sparks shot
high into the air, threatening the safety of several other houses
standing near. The Fire Companies were working their hand-pumps,
throwing water on to the doors and woodwork of these houses. Long
lines of men were extended down to the edge of the river and passed
the buckets backwards and forwards. City officials, gentlemen of the
Court, and officers of the troops, moved to and fro shouting
directions and superintending the work. From many of the houses the
inhabitants were bringing out their furniture and goods, aided by the
constables and spectators.

"It is a grand sight," Cyril said, as, with his companion, he took
his place in a quiet corner where a projecting portico threw a deep
shadow.

"It will soon be grander still. The wind is taking the sparks and
flames westwards, and nothing can save that house over there. Do you
see the little jets of flame already bursting through the roof?"

"It looks so, Cyril, but there may be people asleep at the back. Let
us work round and have a look from behind."

They turned down an alley, and in a minute or two came out behind the
house. There was a garden and some high trees, but it was surrounded
by a wall, and they could not see the windows.

"Here, Cyril, I will give you a hoist up. If you stand on my
shoulders, you can reach to the top of the wall and pull yourself up.
Come along here to where that branch projects over. That's it. Now
drop your cloak, and jump on to my back. That is right. Now get on to
my shoulders."

"Put your foot on my head. I will warrant it is strong enough to bear
your weight."

Cyril did as he was told, grasped the top of the wall, and, after a
sharp struggle, seated himself astride on it. Just as he did so, a
window in a wing projecting into the garden was thrown open, and a
female voice uttered a loud scream for help. There was light enough
for Cyril to see that the lower windows were all barred. He shouted
back,--

"There are some women and children in there, John. They can't get
out. We must go round to the other side and get some axes and break
down the door."

Snatching up his cloak, he ran at full speed to his former position,
followed by Wilkes. The roof of the house was now in flames. Many of
the shutters and window-frames had also caught fire, from the heat.
He ran up to two gentlemen who seemed to be directing the operations.

"There are some women and children in a room at the back of that
house," he said. "I have just been round there to see. They are in
the second storey, and are crying for help."

"I can tie two or three of them together," Wilkes said. "I am an old
sailor and can answer for the knots."

The firemen were already dashing water on the lower windows of the
front of the house. A party with axes were cutting at the door, but
this was so massive and solid that it resisted their efforts. One of
the gentlemen went down to them. At his orders eight or ten men
seized ladders. Cyril snatched some ropes from a heap that had been
thrown down by the firemen, and the party, with one of the gentlemen,
ran round to the back of the house. Two ladders were placed against
the wall. John Wilkes, running up one of them, hauled several of the
others up, and lowered them into the garden.

The flames were now issuing from some of the upper windows. Cyril
dropped from the wall into the garden, and, running close up to the
house, shouted to three or four women, who were screaming loudly, and
hanging so far out that he thought they would fall, that help was at
hand, and that they would be speedily rescued. John Wilkes rapidly
tied three of the short ladders together. These were speedily raised,
but it was found that they just reached the window. One of the
firemen ran up, while John set to work to prepare another long
ladder. As there was no sign of life at any other window he laid it
down on the grass when finished.

"If you will put it up at the next window," Cyril said, "I will mount
it. The woman said there were children in the house, and possibly I
may find them. Those women are so frightened that they don't know
what they are doing."

One woman had already been got on to the other ladder, but instead of
coming down, she held on tightly, screaming at the top of her voice,
until the fireman with great difficulty got up by her side, wrenched
her hands from their hold, threw her across his shoulder, and carried
her down.

The room was full of smoke as Cyril leapt into it, but he found that
it was not, as he had supposed, the one in which the women at the
next window were standing. Near the window, however, an elderly woman
was lying on the floor insensible, and three girls of from eight to
fourteen lay across her. Cyril thrust his head out of the window.

He lifted the youngest of the girls, and as he got her out of the
window, John's head appeared above the sill.

"Take her down quick, John," he said, as he handed the child to him.
"There are three others. They are all insensible from the smoke."

Filling his lungs with fresh air, he turned into the blinding smoke
again, and speedily reappeared at the window with another of the
girls. John was not yet at the bottom; he placed her with her head
outside the window, and was back with the eldest girl by the time
Wilkes was up again. He handed her to him, and then, taking the
other, stepped out on to the ladder and followed Wilkes down.

"Brave lad!" the gentleman said, patting him on the shoulder. "Are
there any more of them?"

"One more--a woman, sir. Do you go up, John. I will follow, for I
doubt whether I can lift her by myself."

He followed Wilkes closely up the ladder. There was a red glow now in
the smoke. Flames were bursting through the door. John was waiting at
the window.

John stumbled out, half suffocated, while Cyril thrust his head as
far as he could outside the window.

"That is it, John; you take hold of her shoulder, and I will help you
get her on to your back."

Between them they pushed her nearly out, and then, with Cyril's
assistance, John got her across his shoulders. She was a heavy woman,
and the old sailor had great difficulty in carrying her down. Cyril
hung far out of the window till he saw him put his foot on the
ground; then he seized a rung of the ladder, swung himself out on to
it, and was soon down.

For a time he felt confused and bewildered, and was conscious that if
he let go the ladder he should fall. He heard a voice say, "Bring one
of those buckets of water," and directly afterwards, "Here, lad, put
your head into this," and a handful of water was dashed into his
face. It revived him, and, turning round, he plunged his head into a
bucket that a man held up for him. Then he took a long breath or two,
pressed the water from his hair, and felt himself again. The women at
the other window had by this time been brought down. A door in the
garden wall had been broken down with axes, and the women and girls
were taken away to a neighbouring house.

"There is nothing more to do here," the gentlemen said. "Now, men,
you are to enter the houses round about. Wherever a door is fastened,
break it in. Go out on to the roofs with buckets, put out the sparks
as fast as they fall. I will send some more men to help you at once."
He then put his hand on Cyril's shoulder, and walked back with him to
the open space.

"We have saved them all," he said to the other gentleman who had now
come up, "but it has been a close touch, and it was only by the
gallantry of this young gentleman and another with him that the lives
of three girls and a woman were rescued. I think all the men that can
be spared had better go round to the houses in that direction. You
see, the wind is setting that way, and the only hope of stopping the
progress of the fire is to get plenty of men with buckets out on the
roofs and at all the upper windows."

"A brave soldier, and a hearty companion," the other said warmly. "He
rode behind me scores of times into the thick of the fight. I am
Prince Rupert, lad."

Cyril doffed his hat in deep respect. His father had always spoken of
the Prince in terms of boundless admiration, and had over and over
again lamented that he had not been able to join the Prince in his
exploits at sea.

"I am sorry to hear it. I did hear that, while I was away, he had
been suing at Court. I asked for him, but could get no tidings of his
whereabouts. But we cannot speak here. Ask for me to-morrow at
Whitehall. Do you know this gentleman?"

"This is the Duke of Albemarle, my former enemy, but now my good
friend. You will like the lad no worse, my Lord, because his father
more than once rode with me into the heart of your ranks."

"Certainly not," the Duke said. "It is clear that the son will be as
gallant a gentleman as his father was before him, and, thank God! it
is not against Englishmen that he will draw his sword. You may count
me as your friend, sir, henceforth."

Cyril bowed deeply and retired, while Prince Rupert and the Duke
hurried away again to see that the operations they had directed were
properly carried out.